


Best Kept Secrets

by Duchesse



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Smut, Vampire AU, angsty, vampire romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchesse/pseuds/Duchesse
Summary: You had been warned not to get involved with him. There was more to C&R and Jumin Han than met the eye.[Jumin Han | Reader]





	Best Kept Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> so, a couple months ago, i was part of the mystic messenger halloween zine on tumblr. and i got jumin to do. i had several ideas i liked, and obviously went with a different one. but this is another one.

Two months had come and gone before you were able to ascertain you were no longer dazzled by the very notion of being in the same room as him. The transition from your previous place of employment to rigorous workloads and strict policies at C&R had often left you pacing your apartment, picking up noise complaints from neighbors, whilst weighing your phone in your hand and squeezing a plush milk carton in the other.

You had lost count of the times you woke up to the drone of your alarm, contemplating in a murderous, groggy haze whether you needed that damn job and that much stress in your life. On more than one occasion, you left your desk for lunch; left the bundles of papers and folders with flimsy paperclips, convinced you would never come back. 

That agony would be gone, the long hours would be over and all of your immediate stresses would melt off your shoulders the moment you stepped out those doors.

But, so would your livelihood and generous salary.

“Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position? Be grateful and keep your head down.” Your mother chided over lunch in one instance, salad pocketed in her cheek with a plastic fork wagging in your direction. “Better yet, just marry one of the executives there. I hear the Chairman’s son is single.”

“That’s the best joke I’ve heard in a long time.” You didn’t catch the bite of bitterness that wormed from your lips, absently plucking the garnishes on your plate with chopsticks. “Jumin Han notice me? I don’t know if I want him to. I hear he runs his assistant ragged, always calls her in on days off and asks for stupid stuff.”

She shook her head, reaching across the table to take your leftovers. “What a troublesome child. Take care of your mother for once. Being noticed by that man would be a blessing.”

“I don’t want him to notice me.” 

A thinly veiled lie.

The next day you had been promoted from your humble cubicle with a cluster of other like-minded coworkers, to a polished desk with more room than your three plants, box of stationary, stress toys, and pen holders needed. You weren’t entirely sure to make of the ceiling-to-floor windows overlooking the pink skyline of the city as the sun set, nor the fact that you had seen more exquisite people in two hours than you had in your entire life.

It didn’t help that the Chairman’s former assistant was tearing through instructions and procedures quicker than your fingers could messily scrawl. The tension was palpable, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this departure wasn’t on the best of terms.

“I made sure to add labels on the phone. This is to page the Chairman directly. But, pleeeeease  _do not_ do that unless it’s an important client or the building is on fire. This is for IT, HR, and of course for Ms. Kang and Mr. Han.”

You gave up trying to take notes, dropping the thick notepad with a thunk on the desk as you leaned back in the seat. “Don’t call them, right?”

“Ms. Kang is wonderful. She’ll be your best friend and help you out as much as you need.” The assistant hesitated, eyes flitting across your face before he found the gumption to start again. “I strongly advise against calling Mr. Han. He’ll almost never answer, for one. And two, Ms. Kang is always available.”

This guy was skirting around a real reason, even you could tell that. “Sure. Can’t get away from calling him on behalf of the Chairman, though.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” He countered quickly. “They usually communicate privately on their phones.”

“Okay. What about papers that Mr. Han would need?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Email them over, preferably to Ms. Kang.”

“Client requests? Invoices? Import and export? Advertising?”

“Route all of those to their respectful departments. If nothing, then–”

“Just reach out to Ms. Kang.” Your smile was lopsided, though the humor of the situation seemed to only reach you as the assistant gave a sage nod. “Are there any particular instances where I’d be in contact with Mr. Han?”

Once again, you were slapped in the face with a silence you were convinced you could saw through and a look that told you that you didn’t seem to understand the severity of the role you inherited.

“Only when he asks for you, but I pray he never does.”

“Wha–”

He pushed himself upright from the desk, fingertips pattering the top. “That’s everything I can think of that’s necessary. If the Chairman needs you to do anything, he’ll page you. Don’t worry, the job isn’t as bad as some of the execs are making it out to be. Just keep your head down and answer the Chairman when he needs something and you’ll be golden.”

You nodded slowly and stiffly, relocating one set of sticky notes to the opposite side of the desk. A moment passed and the assistant still stood before you, fingers drumming the desk with the gravity of there being something more pressing, yet he wouldn’t speak.

He was pissing you off.

That feeling quickly dissipated to invite surprise when he slid a piece of paper across the polished surface towards you. A phone number, and judging from how quickly he averted his gaze and fussed with his glasses, it was his phone number.

“Explain?” you pressed.

“For now, all I’ll say is that you may need it.” He said with the heaviness of finality, fleeing for the door. Your eyes barely traced the numbers on the paper, hearing his hand clap against the doorway, having paused midst his hurried strides. “If it happens, just give me a call. I’ll help you any way I can.”

He left you with those cryptic words and the barely legible numbers from bleeding ink.

“…What?”


End file.
